The non-familiarity of the Morningside apartments was almost soothing. She’d lived in one for a few weeks when she’d first arrived, before the mortuary had shown up and Dan and her had moved into it. But she didn’t really remember much about it. Just that it had been big and entirely too much room for just one person. It had an almost sterile feel to it back then and still did, but now she welcomed that feeling, the lack of familiarity that the mortuary had in every nook and cranny.
She knew it couldn’t last forever, that eventually she was going to have to deal with being in her home again and face the people that were living there. But trying to do that all at once was still far too daunting of a process. There were so many things that needed to be said and she wasn’t ready for any of them with Ambrose, Roz or her aunt. Some moments she wasn’t ready to even say them to Nick, but she still wanted him around, needing to keep an eye on him after what he’d done back home. Even if she knew he wouldn’t do that here, she couldn’t help but worry, bile rising in the back of her throat when she couldn’t sense him nearby.
The knock at the front door startled her, Salem letting out a meow to remind her that Dan was supposed to be coming over, while Shadow started to bark. He was not made for apartment living.
Sabrina wriggled her fingers to unlock the door as she stayed curled up on the couch and let the door open on its own, sending Salem off to lead Dan into the living room.
Something had happened, something not good - as of now, Dan didn’t have the details but he felt it when Sabrina teleported away from the mortuary. Felt her despair, dying embers and a howling cold wind - her sadness, even her anger and the way it built like deep water currents. It was so jarring, so unsettling, that he didn’t pry any further - just hung on to the connection they shared; when Nick updated everyone at the mortuary too, it seemed to add another piece to the puzzle - but nothing that really helped to fuse it all together.
But she was safe and not in trouble - just needed space for a little bit, apparently. He was willing to give her that though he at least wanted to know what happened because he worried. If she wasn’t ready to talk about it, fine - but he wanted to check on her either way.
The door opened and he followed Salem inside, Dan carrying a casserole he’d made for her and Nick to share - it wasn’t as unhealthy as a bag of burgers and fries but it wasn’t particularly nutritious either. Comfort food, more like - had some spiced ground beef and cheese and tater tots in there (he’d tell himself the potato part counted as a vegetable). Though he’d also stopped at the Grease Bucket and got her a shake - the Sabrina Shake, with all the chocolate and peanut butter.
“Hey,” he greeted, setting the aluminum-covered dish down on the counter. Morningside apartments were nice - he had one for about a week too, before moving into the mortuary. “Is it okay if I sit?”
Salem headed back to her, joining her on the couch again and moving right back to her lap. Shadow knew better than to try for pets then with the way the cat was eyeing him and headed over toward Dan instead, hopeful. Sabrina nodded toward one of the chairs as she slowly stroked her fingers through her familiar’s fur.
Whatever Dan had brought smelled good, something homecooked and no doubt delicious. It reminded her immediately of her aunt Hilda who was no longer around and she would never see again. Sabrina had to close her eyes, trying to push down the overwhelming feeling of despair that tried to wash over her, working to pull her down into its depths. It was a vicious cycle, one that always reminded her of Nick and the Sea of Sorrow and all that entailed. But she didn’t want to have a breakdown in front of Dan and tried to breathe through it.
There wasn’t really an ending to her sorrow, a constant battering of it that she was reminded of by the smallest things, and the coping strategies that she’d formed in the past few months at Vallo weren’t working anymore. Everything she’d learned and experienced was just too much, too overwhelming.
“Thanks for the food,” she managed after another moment, though she didn’t reach for the shake, unable to quite look at it.
Shadow was a friendly pup - or wolf? Technically a wolf, though Dan just thought he was a great big fluffball. And he was more than happy to give Nick’s familiar some love, scritching behind his ears and even on his butt - his butt got a few pats too before Dan went to sit in one of the living room chairs.
He wasn’t even really reaching, or trying that hard - but he felt Sabrina’s sorrow roll off of her in waves. It was like every cell of her body was working to reject whatever this was, whatever she’d learned - he didn’t think that should be muted necessarily (it was important to let yourself feel things) but he could use a flex of the Shining to project the thought without words, she wasn’t alone, comforting and warm. The way it felt while soaking in a tub after getting caught in a freezing rainstorm (seemed like this was one hell of a rainstorm).
“What happened?” he wanted to know, still petting Shadow’s head since the wolf came to plop his face in Dan’s lap, seeking more attention. “If you want to tell me, I mean.” If not, well - they could sit here in silence. Sometimes that helped too.
Sabrina threw up a mental shield as soon as she felt what Dan was projecting. She didn’t want to feel anything calming or happy in that moment, not when she knew how much her death would have devastated everyone she knew and loved. It might have been necessary to save the world but the guilt that ran with the pain she had unleashed upon her family and friends was overwhelming. She still didn’t know how to cope with what Nick had done, a result of her sacrifice and while it had been his own choice to go into the Sea of Sorrows and let the undertow pull him downward, she couldn’t help but feel like it was her fault as well.
“Memory update.” Funny how two little words could contain so much meaning. She knew she didn’t need to expand on that right away and wasn’t sure she really could anyway. The words didn’t want to come out of her mouth. It had been hard enough to say just those two.
Sabrina turned her focus onto Salem, stroking her hands through his fur as she let his soft purring soothe her some.
Dan didn’t really understand the way the memory updates worked, just that they were completely and utterly pointless to him - as in, why should anyone be dreaming, having visions of, or recalling things that happened in a world where they currently were not and thus could do nothing about what they even saw anyway? It was some form of cruel and unusual punishment - and no one deserved that shit. No one asked for it.
Sometimes it made him glad that he was dead. He didn’t want to be turned upside down about more terrible crap happening, like whomever remained of Rose’s ilk popping up and going after Abra or something else befalling the few family members he had left.
But he knew it had happened to Sabrina before and she told him all that occurred - it hit her hard then; this seemed different now. “You...died?” he guessed, and he wasn’t reading her mind (not just because she was walling herself off like she was the sole existence in a self-built prison). More like he put the pieces together based on what he knew about how she made a copy of herself, in order to simultaneously exist in two places at once. Which didn’t seem like it’d end well.
“If that’s the case - or whatever’s the case...we both know nothing will make it better, Sabrina. No one can fix this. No one can do anything after memories come like they do.” Except get used to the pain they left behind. It was like grieving, in a sense - you didn’t erase it. You just learned to build around it.
“I know that,” she snapped. That was why she didn’t want to be around any of them, why she’d needed the space and still did. She was hurting, a constant wave after wave of grief pushing her downward, but there was anger too. A mixture of hot and cold that shifted from one extreme to the other, alternating too quickly for her to really grasp hold of and understand.
She didn’t want to face her cousin and aunt’s grief as well when she could barely handle her own. When part of her wanted to lash out at them for not protecting her and she knew that wasn’t fair. Nor was the blame she held toward them for Nick’s fate as well. But it was still there, too raw to make sense of.
Sabrina stared at the milkshake that was leaving condensation circles along the coffee table, melting away into a sticky mess. It’s potential completely wasted, reminding her of her own, and she blinked it out of existence, not wanting the reminder. Salem meowed at that, chasiting her but she ignored him, staring at the little circles on the table.
Oh, right. Of course - she knew that. And everything else. How could Dan forget?
Jesus fucking Christ. He brushed his fingertips over his brow, where he was beginning to feel pressure building - a dull ache for now, but by the time he got home it would no doubt be a full-blown skull pounding. Though he knew that he was mainly frustrated at Vallo's usual brand of bullshit and how it always seemed to be one thing after another, piling it on before anyone could even begin to deal with the problem that came before - he was tired of it, so tired (at least if he was dead he could finally be resting, which was terrible to think considering all he had built here and all he had to fight for) but he couldn’t take the irritation out on anyone else.
Because mishandling his own frustration wasn't going to help. It didn't set a good example either.
"Alright," he said, giving the wolf another pat before he moved to rise from the chair. He didn't know what happened and Sabrina didn't want to tell him; while he was prone to giving her firm but gentle nudges to make good decisions, that was more a guiding hand and not trying to lasso stars from the sky and bring them down (a seemingly impossible task). Forcing her to discuss her trauma would do more harm than good.
So he guessed he'd just leave her be. He was officially out of options anyway - they’d been through a lot together and they’d get through this too, but he wasn’t going to hurry shit along or sit here and get into some kind of argument. “If you decide to stay at Morningside much longer, just let me know. Come on, Shadow - walk me out.”
She just added the part of her that felt bad to the rest of the ache that had wrapped its tentacles around her, squeezing her until she was pretty sure she couldn’t breathe. Even though she was still doing that, in and out, still alive even though she vividly remembered dying. It probably wasn’t fair to push him away but she didn’t care much about fairness right then and there when she was barely managing to tred water.
“We’ll let you know,” Sabrina murmured before laying back down on the couch and nodding for Shadow to do what Dan had said. Salem shook his head at her and hopped down, heading off to lead him toward the door as well. She simply tugged at the blanket on the back of the couch and pulled it back down to wrap around herself, staring at the wall again.
Dan was quiet when he left, though he did spare a thought for Salem. Just a look after her, even though he knew the familiar would - sometimes he chatted with Salem and they had an understanding, anyway, so Dan was sure Sabrina was good in good hands (paws). With the cat-goblin and with Nick - she wasn’t engaging in self-destructive behavior (if she had been he’d step in, like it or not) so he was positive that Sabrina and Nick would look out for each other too and it’d eventually be okay. Somehow. She had her friends and family and her therapist to fall back on for help and support when she was ready.
Whatever this was, she had to pull out of it herself - he couldn’t toss her into a cotton candy world of feel-good emotions, and Dan wouldn’t do that anyway. He thought it was hard to leave but a lot of things in life were hard and above all else, he wanted to do what was best for her. Even if he was fucking exhausted by all of this (meaning - if it was a meme, it’d just say this followed by ‘gestures vaguely’).
He let the door close behind him, and hopefully she’d at least have some of that casserole later.